I Think I Love You
by badwolf12
Summary: Shawn finally realizes he loves Lassiter, so what does he do, he tells him of course, in the very first opportunity he gets. Slightly one-sided Shassie but you could read it both ways if you squint. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: All publicly recognized yadda yadda, I don't own it.**

**Author Note: Yay, spur of the moment one-shot, just a stupid little thing I wrote at four in the morning, I was super tired, but you can't choose when the muse sings. Now review!**

**Summery: Shawn finally realizes he loves Lassiter, so what does he do, he tells him of course, in the very first opportunity he gets. Slightly one-sided Shassie but you could read it both ways if you squint.**

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Dealing with the victim's family was Detective Carlton Lassiter's second least favorite part of being a member of the Santa Barbara police force. But right now that number was climbing steadily toward one. Melinda Cassovera was leaning against the wall of her pristine home, her small red dress barley covering her two hundred pound body, clashing terribly with her shockingly copper hair, and sniffling, very, very loudly into an already wet tissue.

Lassiter pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger "so tell us again Mrs. Cassovera, did your husband have any enemies or business rivals?" this had to have been the third time he had asked that question, and every time she came up with the same response "I'm sorry detective, I don't know what you mean." If she said this one more time, Lassiter was sure he would shoot her in the knee. He simple could not understand how someone could just not interpret that question, at all.

Juliet O'Hara, his wayward snow-bunny partner whom he had come to cherish and love like that of the sister he had been deprived was having a much easier time with their grieving widow. She looked up from her notes into the eyes of Mrs. Cassovera, her lips parting into a dazzling smile, saving Lassiter from his own hostel intentions with a single glace. "Melinda," she soothed, placing a hand on her massive shoulder "I can't imagine the pain you must be going though" Lassiter suppressed a snort, if this woman could casually lean on the wall her husband had been killed on, not even an hour after the blood had been scrubbed off, she obviously wasn't in that much pain. Melinda however blew her nose theatrically into her tissue and gave a teary thanks to Juliet. Detective O'Hara smiled again "we're just trying to collect everything we can to find out who could have done this to your husband. Detective Lassiter has been having a rough day" she glared at Lassiter who shrugged in defense, he had been having a rough day "from now on, why don't I ask you the questions?"

Lassiter began to object that he was Head Detective and he would ask the questions, but when faced with scathing eye daggers from Juliet he quietly backed off. After all, hell hath no fury like a determined O'Hara. Mrs. Cassovera must have been familiar with the same expression because with more blowing and a sniffle she agreed. Lassiter only hoped Juliet could see she was simply in love with the attention and probably didn't care a thing for her husband.

As he walked aimlessly around the victim's house, Lassiter reflected. This had certainly not been a good day for the detective, after getting the call about yet another murder the department had begun to suspect a serial killer and young Officer Buzz McNabb had immediately asked "Detective Lassiter, how will catch him?" and he was not the last to ask this question. Since the beginning of this new case, Lassiter had lost count of the number of police men, reporters, and bystanders to ask him that, and while he loved his job of Head Detective, perhaps too much, he did not love the pressure it put on him. Not to mention he had spilled his coffee this morning.

O'Hara, on the other hand, dealt with things much better and thankfully her level headed attitude often balanced out his anger management personality. And all of that, well for Carlton Lassiter that added up to a pretty stressful day. The only thing missing, he decided, was the appearance of Santa Barbara's own residential Psychic Detective. So when none other than Shawn Spencer and his more acclimated partner Burton Guster literally smashed open the door of Melinda Cassovera's home (causing both Mrs. Cassovera and Juliet O'Hara to jump rather violently) Lassiter was convinced that the gods had personally spited against him.

"Lassie!" Shawn shouted leaping towards him, pausing only to wave at O'Hara and give her a chipper "hi Jules" ignoring the awkward wave she returned. He grabbed Lassiter's hand, witch the Detective immediately wrenched away, with a nervous glance around the room, confirming that, yes, everyone was staring at him, and in the fakest whisper Lassiter had ever witnessed, the fakest psychic he had ever witnessed asked "can I speak with you outside Lassie-face?"

Lassiter grumbled a no, and jerked his hand away once more as Shawn tried to again grasp it in his. "Look Spencer," he said, puffing out his chest, and pulling his I'm-superior-than-you voice "nobody called you in on his case" he prayed that O'Hara wouldn't pipe up with "I did!" as she had done on two other occasions, and when she didn't he continued "so I would like it, no I order to leave, this is a closed crime scene, and if you stay I could have you arrested from impeding justice" if he scowled long enough, he had learned, no one would be able to tell he was lying, that this no longer was a crime scene and therefore there was no justice for Shawn to impede, not that Lassiter would ever arrest him, he just liked to reaffirm that he could.

As he stood there, and Shawn's grin grew wider he couldn't help but notice that Guster was fidgeting extra hard, and kept glancing from Lassiter to Shawn. Lassiter attributed this slightly off-putting behavior to the darker man being naturally more nervous, and focused his attention back to Shawn. "Well Spencer, are you going to leave or am I going to have to-"

A hand over his mouth. That was what stopped the Head Detectives speech, and his vision soon blurred with anger and embarrassment, how dare Spencer belittle him like this in from of a murder victim's wife, however annoying she might be. At the station he could take it, but here, Shawn Spencer's antics would simply not fly. Lassiter was about to do something outrageous like punch Shawn in the stomach or lick his hand when the next words out of the pseudo psychic's mouth froze him in place; "I think I love you!" Shawn shouted. These words were followed by three simultaneous actives, the first was Lassiter's face turning about the shade of the blood stain no longer gracing the wall behind him, the second was the collective gasp of Gus, Melinda Cassovera, and Juliet, and the third was Gus practically tackling Shawn and dragging him out the door, and away from the now homicidal Detective.

Juliet O'Hara, poor sweet girl, made the possibly fatal mistake of giggling, and Mrs. Cassovera, fat, rich widow, made the incredibly likely fatal mistake of laughing with her. Both women were reminded frighteningly of The Ring as Lassiter turned his head slowly toward them and growled in the voice of demon "wait here." They prayed together they would not die tonight.

Outside Shawn and Gus were in a heated argument "what the hell was that?" Gus asked in outrage.

"That" Shawn replied "was me doing exactly what you said, telling him how I feel."

"Not like that, not in front of people!"

"Oh so I should hide this? Gus, I'm surprised at you, the heart can't choose who it loves"

Gus ran his hands over his head, and if he had hair he was sure he would have pulled it "that's not what I meant Shawn and you know it. Lassiter needs time to soak this in, and doing this publicly did not give him time." He sighed "I'm just trying to look out for you."

In the realm of spoken words, Gus always knew what was best for Shawn. He always had the correct vernacular in his pocket to spew at a moment's notice, and he always counseled Shawn before important events, and made sure his best friend had only appropriate things to say. And of course, Shawn never listened, which is why, in Gus's opinion, they had gotten kicked out of the Cinnamon Festival for two consecutive years, Wal-Mart for life, and Santa's Village.

Despite Gus's parole genius, when it came to anything physical he was as useless as an unpotty-trained Labradoodle. He could not punch, kick, or fight in any way, that stuff, he left to Shawn, or more specifically the police that he made Shawn call when they get into trouble. So when the very officer that would, under any other circumstance, be fighting their battles for them, came changing towards them, hand twitching dangerously close to his gun holster, the first thing Gus did was squeak and hide behind Shawn. And when he started yelling, very loudly, the pharmaceutical salesmen took the opportunity to slowly back away and disappear to wait in his safe blue Echo.

Shawn however, did not back away; he stood his ground, and smiled, as if he were having the time of his life. "What the hell is wrong with you Spencer!" Lassiter screamed, when his long winded lecture about respect and the law got no respond, his face turning red from the stress of remaining so angry "I always knew you had the mind of three year old, but you do not embarrass me in front of my partner and the widow of a murdered man! Do you understand me?"

Lassiter was inches from Shawn's face and breathing heavily, yet somehow, this moment of intimacy was not all Shawn had hoped it would be. Still Shawn would not let it pass untouched. He crossed his fingers, and took the opportunity of their closeness to lift his head and touch their lips together for the briefest of seconds. "I'm sorry Lass," he whispered in his best Film Noir voice "I just couldn't hold it in."

Lassiter's angry expression dropped as he realized Shawn was not simply teasing him, but long from happy he still hissed "I swear to god Spencer, if you ever do anything like that again, I will shot you." And he stormed off, ordering himself not to look back and hoping O'Hara would forgive him for abandoning her. Why Spencer always made him feel guilty after an argument, he would never know.

"Well," Shawn sighed when Lassiter had left and he had climbed into the Echo next to Gus, whose eyebrows could not have been further up on his forehead "that could of gone better."

"He didn't kill you" Gus breathed, mentally canceling the funeral he had been planning in his head.

"No Gus, he didn't." Shawn didn't smile "but he didn't kiss me either, now drive, I need a pineapple smoothie to drown my sorrows." As they drove down the lonely street in silence, Shawn thought that perhaps announcing his affection loudly in the middle of a victim's home was not the best way to earn Lassiter's love.

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